The Vatican - M.E. Clayton Page 0,25

and she really was pretty. “Yeah, Francisco Benetti just walked in and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him.”

My stomach hollowed, and I wasn’t entirely sure if it was from knowing Francisco was here or that she knew him. My chest ached with the possibility that it was a little of both.

I steeled myself to sound casual. “Oh, you know Benetti?”

I found myself jealous of her smile. “Intimately,” she bragged, confirming what I already knew. However, she didn’t brag in an unattractive way. She spoke as if she really liked Francisco. “And I have to tell you, the man is a beast in bed.” She fanned herself dramatically, and I found myself smiling despite the topic of conversation. “I know he can’t be…tied down, but…God, he’s just so good, you know?”

I did know.

I shook my head. “Uh, no, I don’t,” I lied.

“Oh, honey, what kind of men have you been sleeping with if you don’t know pleasure so intense you can’t put it into words?” she teased.

I hadn’t eaten dinner, but it still felt like my stomach was going to revolt. I knew Francisco fucked around. And I knew he came here to do it. He admitted as much at my apartment last night. So, why in the hell was I feeling jealous? Why was this nice woman, who didn’t know who I was, bothering me so much with her genuine interest in Francisco?

“Clearly, I need to get out more,” I joked. “Hence, why I’m here.”

She rolled her lips in, but then smiled again. “If this doesn’t sound too weird…well, Franklin Hennessy, who’s sitting near the lily painting, is a good choice.” She blushed a little when my brow arched. “You won’t be disappointed,” she promised on a laugh.

“What’s your name?” I shouldn’t be entertaining this woman knowing what she was to Francisco, but our issues weren’t her fault.

She stuck her hand out. “Jessica. Jessica Silvio.”

“Hi, Jessica. I’m Ria,” I said, shaking her hand. “Thanks for the advice.”

Jessica grinned. “He’s not Francisco Benetti caliber, but he’s close. He’s one of the few who makes sure you’re completely satisfied with your choice as him for a partner.”

“That’s good to know,” I remarked. We gave ourselves one final glance in the mirror before I said, “Ready to go get your man?”

Jessica lifted her chin. “Absolutely.”

My mind drifted towards Franklin Hennessy, and I realized I didn’t care what he looked like or what he was about. I wasn’t about to go home alone while Francisco entertained Jessica. Besides, I came here on a mission and jealousy had just turned my destructive urges up a notch.

I knew I had no right to be jealous. I knew my feelings were my own problem. I also knew a piece of paper might legally bind me to Francisco, but he wasn’t mine. We’d never be a married couple in love. We were going to be a married couple in power. We were going to do our duty by our families, and love had no place in an arrangement like that.

As we stepped out of the restroom, Mica fell into step with me. “He’s sitting at your table,” he warned low enough for me to hear only.

Perfect.

The part of me that was still angry and the new part of me that felt jealous couldn’t wait to deliver Jessica to Francisco. Plus, if he was busy with her, he might stay out of my fucking business with Franklin, if Franklin was game.

We emerged from the dark hallway, and when I looked over at my reserved table, Francisco Benetti was sitting in the seat I had vacated, sweet as you please, like he owned the fucking place.

I heard Jessica squeak, and I pushed down the unpleasant emotions that were threatening to claim Francisco as mine in an epically humiliating fashion. Just yesterday, I told the man I didn’t want him, and it could have been any man who made me cum the way he did; I was not about to act like a jealous harpy now.

I’d slit my wrists first before I’d show him, or anyone, that kind of weakness.

The second Francisco saw us walking towards us, I noticed his back straightened, and I never realized how thrilling it was for a cat to play with the mouse before devouring it.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

Chapter 12

Francisco~

When Mica had texted me to tell me he was driving Saveria to The Sapphire, I had been ready to make dinner, and my kitchen hadn’t survived the news.

I tore the fucking